


What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Wish You Were Dead

by starksparkr



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anyways, I don't know how much I'm going to get into with the torture and the how he was tortured, I put archive warnings on here just in case, Lots of Angst, Other, although it won't be explicitly shown, and tears, and whump, but - Freeform, contains lot of hurt!Peter, happy crying, post whump torture fic, supportive!May, supportive!Ned, supportive!Tony, this story deals with rape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-08-27 22:21:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16711114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starksparkr/pseuds/starksparkr
Summary: Footsteps approach his cell door and recede, the shadows passing into the darkness like they were never there to begin with. The world is blurry, and the darkness comes and goes. He’s not sure how much time has passed when he finally hears it coming from outside: the sounds of fighting.





	1. Chapter 1

_“What doesn't kill you makes you wish you were dead_

_Got a hole in my soul growing deeper and deeper_

_And I can't take one more moment of this silence_

_The loneliness is haunting me_

_And the weight of the world's getting harder to hold up_

_It comes in waves, I close my eyes_

_Hold my breath and let it bury me_

_I'm not okay and it's not all right_

_Won't you drag the lake and bring me home again_

_Who will fix me now?_

_Dive in when I'm down?_

_Save me from myself, don't let me drown_

_Who will make me fight?_

_Drag me out alive?_

_Save me from myself, don't let me drown_

_What doesn't destroy you leaves you broken instead_

_Got a hole in my soul growing deeper and deeper_

_And I can't take one more moment of this silence_

_The loneliness is haunting me_

_And the weight of the world’s getting harder to hold up_

_It comes in waves, I close my eyes_

_Hold my breath and let it bury me_

_I'm not okay and it's not all right_

_Won't you drag the lake and bring me home again_

_Who will fix me now?_

_Dive in when I'm down?_

_Save me from myself, don't let me drown_

_Who will make me fight?_

_Drag me out alive?_

_Save me from myself, don't let me drown_

_'_ _Cause you know that I can't do this on my own_

_'_ _Cause you know that I can't do this on my own_

_'_ _Cause you know that I can't do this on my own_

_(You know that I can't do this on my own)_

_Who will fix me now?_

_Who will fix me now?_

_Who will fix me now?_

_Dive in when I'm down?_

_Save me from myself, don't let me drown.” –_ Bring Me the Horizon, _Drown_

* * *

 

            He doesn’t remember how he got here. Everything is cold—he’s chilled to the bone, and he can’t stop shivering. There is nothing warm or comforting, and he hasn’t felt the sun’s rays beating down on him since… since… _How long has it been?_

            Queens is almost a distant memory, but he holds onto his memories of home even as he can feel them slipping away. _Ned. May. Mr. Stark._ His body aches, and something warm dribbles down his arms. He just wants to go to sleep; he doesn’t think he can do this for much longer. Footsteps approach his cell door and recede, the shadows passing into the darkness like they were never there to begin with. The world is blurry, and the darkness comes and goes. He’s not sure how much time has passed when he finally hears it coming from outside: the sounds of fighting.

            _What? What’s going on?_ If there’s anything he’s certain of, it’s that these people are too closely knit to be fighting amongst themselves. He can barely stay awake. The door is blasted open, and Tony rushes over to him. He reaches his arms out and tries to pull him into an embrace, but he recoils, scrambling back several feet.

_“No! No, don’t—don’t touch me! Stay back! Stay back!”_

“Peter, it’s me. It’s Tony. You’re okay, you’re okay. Nobody is going to hurt you,” he says gently. “I’m here to take you home. I’m getting you out of here.” Tony scoops him up into his arms—and the feeling of the human touch feels akin to being burned.

            “No, no, no! Put me down, put me down!” screams Peter. “Don’t touch me, don’t touch me!” He fights and tries to push Tony away, but his efforts are fruitless.

            “You’re okay, Peter. You’re okay, I’ve got you… I’ve got you.”

            The world descends into darkness.

* * *

 

            The first thing he hears is a steady beeping. Someone is holding his hand, and the room smells sterile and yet clean at the same time. His vision is blurry when he opens his eyes.

            “Don’t crowd him,” he hears Tony say. “Give him some space.” _Mr. Stark?_ He hears a low moan, and it takes him a moment before he realizes the sound came from himself.

            “Peter, Peter, can you hear me?” _May._ His vision focuses, and he jerks his hand out of her reach, scrambling backwards until his back hits the pillows. Peter scans everyone in the room, every instinct in his body screaming at him to run. May. Ned. Tony.

            “Peter, it’s May.”

            “May?” Peter stammers. “How long have I been…?” The IVs and NGs prodding into him make his skin crawl. The hospital reminds him too much of—he can’t bring himself to finish his thought.

            “You were asleep for two days,” May answers softly, “but… you’ve been gone for months, almost five months.” Her eyes are red, and her face is wet with tears. Ned is a deathly shade of pale. “God, are you okay? What... what did they do to you?”

            “I’m fine. Really.” _I don’t want you to worry about me._

            “You’re in pretty bad shape,” she continues. “When they brought you in, you had… you had—oh my god, I can’t even say it. They had to hook you up to IVs since you couldn’t keep any solid food down.” Peter furrowed his brows. He doesn’t remember being brought here; the last thing he remembers is seeing Tony’s face in that cell before losing consciousness.

            “Welcome back, buddy,” Ned chokes. He outstretches his arms and begins to come close, but Peter puts his hands up in a defensive gesture, his throat closing with tears before he can stop them. Ned flinches as though he’s been slapped.

            “Please… don’t. Don’t touch me,” Peter whispers, “I-I can’t.” His heart is hammering at a million miles an hour, and he feels as though he can’t breathe. The walls are closing in on him, caging him in to the confinements of this small room.

            “You’re alright, Peter, you’re alright,” May assures him. Peter shakes his head furiously and tries to climb out of bed, but May gently holds him down. Her touch is like fire—and for a moment, he thinks he’s going to be slapped. “You need to stay in bed, Peter. You’re alright… you need to regain your strength.”

            “No, no, no—May, I can’t stay here, I need to get out of here!” He hates how panicky his voice sounds. “ _Please, just let me go… let me go_!” He reaches for his IVs, trying to remove them, and he’s crowded. Alarms are going off and nurses are rushing into the room, yelling.

            “Why won’t you let me leave?” he screams. “ _Why won’t you let me go? Let me go, please! Please_!” Everything is a blur. The nurses are screaming something about sedatives as they try to keep him down. He’s back in the cell again, weak and helpless. The fight has almost gone out of him, and he wants to give up—but not when escape is so close. Ned and May are crying just outside in the hall, and Tony is trying to console them.

            _“Don’t leave me here!”_ He feels the needle pierce his arm, and he surrenders himself to the darkness.

* * *

 

            Tony hates feeling helpless. He can do nothing but watch as the nurses hold Peter down and sedate him—only it’s not Peter—not really—but a shell of who he used to be. _What the hell did they do to you?_ Better than almost anyone, he knows what it is like to be continuously tortured. If he closes his eyes, he finds himself back in Afghanistan. He sees Yinsen’s bloody body in front of him, and he can’t do anything for him. _You swore that you’d protect him. You swore that this wouldn’t happen to him. You failed him._

            “How long is he going to have to stay here?” Ned asks. He looks through the window at his now unconscious best friend.

            “He’s in pretty bad shape,” May tells him. She gives a shake of her head as fresh tears course down her cheeks. “Tony, I can’t lose him. I can’t lose my boy. Not after everything. I can’t, okay? I can’t. God, what did they do to him? _What did they do to my Peter_?”

            “The doctors say they fractured several ribs and he’s lost a lot of blood; he’s going to need some donors to replenish what he’s lost,” Tony begins. Even as he says the words, he must resist the urge to be sick. The fuckers who are responsible for this are dead; after getting the kid the hell out of there, he burned the compound to the ground. There is nothing left of them but ashes and dust. “He has a mild concussion, but… Jesus Christ.” The marks around his neck are still gruesomely red; his advanced healing must not be able to keep up with all the damage that has been done to him; his mental and emotional recovery—

 _Don’t get too far ahead of yourself, Stark. You need to be there for him._ He knows that Peter’s physical scars will heal far sooner than his mental ones. The trauma will never really go away, but he can help him keep it at bay. He can help him fight the darkness. “He’s a strong kid, but… everyone has their breaking point.” These next few months are not going to be easy.

            “Is it true that they…that they—do they have to do a physical exam?” May’s voice is a low whisper.

            “That they raped him.” Tony closes his eyes, unable to bring himself to look into her eyes. “They did. God only knows how much damage they did to him.” He wants to hit something. _If only I’d found him sooner, he could’ve been spared so much pain. He could’ve been spared so much torment._ “As soon as he’s strong enough, the doctors will want to do an exam to assess the extent of the damage.” Ned is even paler than before, if such a thing is even possible, and Tony can’t help the pang of sympathy he feels for the kid.

 _No kid should have to go through this, or watch their best friend go through it._ “Ned, you shouldn’t have to see any of this,” he says. “You should go home.”

            “Peter’s my best friend. I’m not leaving him!”

            “Ned—”

            “Mr. Stark, he’s going to need me when he wakes up. He’s going to need me as soon as he’s discharged from this place,” he goes on defiantly. His eyes brim with unshed tears for his friend. “Please.”

            “What about your parents?” May asks. “Do they know you’re here? You shouldn’t do this by yourself. I know you love Peter as much as we do, and I thank you for being here for him—for being here with us. I don’t want you to be alone. You’re just a kid.”

            “I haven’t called my mom,” Ned says, shaking his head. “I haven’t had the guts to tell her what happened.”

            “You should call someone, at least,” she tells him softly.

            “I already told you; I’m not leaving Peter.”

            “If anything changes, we’ll call,” Tony replies. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

            “No, it isn’t, Mr. Stark. No, it isn’t.”

* * *

 

            The leather straps bite into his skin. His vision is blurry, and someone towers over him, a sick gleeful smile adorning their twisted features.

            “Look who’s finally awake,” he snarls. Peter jerks against his restraints, but he can’t move. “My colleagues wanted to get started on you straightaway—but for me, it’s just not the same when it’s unconscious, y’know?” The scientist claps him on the cheek. “Ah, ah, ah. Don’t overwork yourself. We’ll have plenty of time for that later.”

            Realization dawns on him the way the sun rises in the mornings, and fear sets in, choking him. Peter yanks against and fights his restraints; he tries to scream, but it comes out garbled through the gag in his mouth. _No, no, no, no. Please no._

“You have everything ready, boys?”

            “Affirmative. How high do you want the charges set to?”

            “Hey, hey, don’t get too far ahead of yourself just yet. Let’s make it bleed. Are the scalpels sterile and ready? Have the charges set. I want to see how much pain this freak can take.” Peter grunts as they strap his head down to the table, kicking fruitlessly.

            _Don’t let them hear you scream,_ he tells himself. _Don’t give them that._

            He screams as they cut into him like a piece of meat.

            “ _Peter, Peter_!” Someone is towering over him, gently shaking him awake. He is temporarily blinded by the bright lights, and he recoils, jerking away as if he’s been burned.

            “Peter, it’s me. It’s May. You were having a nightmare,” she tells him gently. The heart monitor is beeping excessively as his heart hammers in his chest. “You’re okay. You’re safe.” Peter hates that he can’t stop shaking, and it takes a moment for him to notice the clipboard she’s holding underneath her arm.

            “I-I thought I was back there again.”

            “You’re not,” murmurs May. “You’re back home. You’re safe. You’re safe now, Peter.” She offers him a teary smile, and reaches to hold his hand, but he pulls his hand away. He hates himself for the brief flash of pain in her eyes, but she shakes her head.

            “Peter… the doctors say you need to be examined,” she says.

            “Examined?”

            “When you were brought in, they found multiple signs of sexual trauma.” As she says the words, Peter can’t stop the flashes of memory. The pain, the stabbing, prodding pain. Their laughter. Their jeers. Their taunts. “They need to give a forensic exam so they can properly assess the extent of the damage and gather DNA samples. As your guardian, they’ve given me the consent forms… but I won’t sign them without your consent.”

            “I’m sorry, May,” he whispers, his voice choked with tears. _I’m sorry for being raped._ “May… May, please. I can’t do it. I can’t do this exam.”

            “Peter… those men hurt you.”

            “You haven’t heard what they say behind closed doors. You don’t know what it’s like, being in here. You don’t understand.”

            “Talk to me, then. Tell me… please, Peter.”

            “Some of the people here—some of the doctors, they don’t believe what happened to me. They say that it couldn’t have happened since I’m—since I’m…” He can’t bring himself to finish his sentence. “They believe everything else, but not about the—not about the other things they did to me.” 

            “You were raped. You were violated in the worst possible way,” May says. “I believe you—but, Peter, you need this exam.”

            “And if I don’t consent?”

            “I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to… but you need it so we can be sure no lasting damage was done.”

            “No lasting damage? _No lasting damage_?” Tears stream down his face before he can stop them. “I can’t do it, May. Aren’t you hearing me? _I can’t do it_.”

            “I’ll be there with you the entire time. I promise.”

            “No, no, no. May, you—you don’t understand. I don’t want you to see me like that. I don’t want you to see me like—like _this_!” Peter reaches for the IVs and NGs, fumbling with them. “Look at me. _Look at me_.” He hides his face in his hands, unable to stop the ragged sobs that tear themselves out of his throat. His skin won’t stop crawling, and all his senses are on hyperalert. He can hear the doctors and the nurses running to and tending to other patients, he can hear them whispering amongst themselves, he can hear people crying as they lose loved ones.  Every instinct in his body screams at him to run, to flee, to escape. Every instinct in his body tells him that everyone around him is an enemy, although he knows rationally that he is safe now.

            May gently pulls his hands away from his face. She is careful not to touch him, and he looks up at her as tears spill down his cheeks. “Peter, you’re okay. Nobody here is going to hurt you. We want to help you. You’re not alone. Ned’s here. Tony’s here. _I_ am here.”

            “Where are they?” Peter looks this way and that. “Why aren’t they here?”

            “Tony’s taking Ned back home,” May answers. “He’ll be back in a few minutes. You’re not alone in this; all of us, we’ll be here with you every step of the way.” Peter nods mutely.

            “Please… please don’t leave me alone with them,” he whispers.

            “I won’t, I promise. I’ll be in the room with you the entire time.”

            “Give me the papers. I’ll… I’ll sign.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Before we begin the exam, Mr. Parker, we’ll need you to answer a few questions,” says the examiner.

            “A few questions? What for?”

            “We need you to go over every detail of the assault that you can remember.”

            “Is that really necessary?” May shouts. “He’s been through enough, and now you want him to relive his trauma?” Peter feels all the blood drain from his face. _No, no, no. I can’t. I can’t go through that again, I can’t!_

            “It’s standard procedure. Given the… unusual circumstances regarding this case, we won’t be able to use the DNA samples to identify the individual who assaulted him—but we need to check if any internal damage was done. Mr. Parker, can you do that? Can you tell us what happened and how it happened?” Peter can’t speak through the lump forming in his throat, and his knuckles whiten. His fingernails dig into his palms until blood is drawn.

            “It wasn’t just one person.” His voice sounds hollow to his own ears. “It was a group of them. I-I don’t even remember how it started, but—but they enjoyed it. They enjoyed hurting me. I think they wanted to see just how much pain I could take. I don’t remember everything, but they would barge into my cell in the middle of the night. I guess they hadn’t finished getting their kicks out of hurting me. They never got enough of it… it was as if they liked hearing my screams. I can still hear their laughter. I tried fighting them off, I swear I did… and when I did try to fight, they would take a crowbar to my leg or wherever else they felt like hurting me.  Sometimes they would hit me too. I learned quickly that if I fought, I’d just be making it worse for myself.” The tears sting in his eyes and slip down his cheeks faster than he can stop them. “They... they would pull my pants down. Usually, they’d take turns on me—while the others held me down. And they laughed. They laughed like they were enjoying themselves.” His voice catches on a sob. “It hurt. Sometimes, they wanted to hear me scream and others… they’d hit me or gag me to keep me quiet. I-I couldn’t do anything. I tried fighting them off, but I just… I couldn’t.”

            Peter feels May tense up beside him, and he doesn’t need to look at her to know that she’s crying silently. “I can still feel them… inside me,” he sobs. He shakes his head furiously. “I can’t—I can’t.”

            “Are we done? Can we get this fucking exam over with, or have you had your fun tormenting my nephew?” May snaps icily. Her voice shakes with her anger and her tears.

            “That was all, Mr. Parker,” the examiner says conversationally. “I’m going to begin the exam now. If it begins to hurt or become too much, tell me and I’ll stop. I’ll be as gentle as possible.” He can only nod as the bed is reclined and his legs opened, and he doesn’t pull away when May offers him her hand. His body shakes from the force of his silent sobs, and he stares up at the ceiling, unable to bring himself to look his aunt in the eye. The shame and humiliation burn into him like fire as he feels the examiner’s fingers probing every detail.

            He steals a glance out the window and he sees Tony, his face stricken with horror. Peter hides his face in his and May’s entwined hands, unable to hold back his tears as he cries. He is acutely aware of the fingers poking and prodding him between the legs. May strokes his hair, and although he can feel the darkness resurging, he doesn’t care—for his humiliation has overcome all else. He barely registers it when the examiner finishes probing him and leaves the room.

            “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he chokes.

            “Peter, it’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.” Peter looks up at his aunt through tear-filled eyes. Shame makes him withdraw his hand from hers. May looks over her shoulder to see Tony standing in the doorway. “Tony wants to see you. I’ll be right outside the hall if you need me, okay?” She leaves the room, and Tony approaches, sitting at his bedside. Peter tenses.

            “Hey, hey. I’m not going to hurt you, kiddo,” Tony says gently.

            “Why’d you go?”

            “I had to take Ned home. I didn’t want him to see anything. He’ll be back tomorrow right after school.”

            “ _Where were you_?” The words come out as a whisper.

            “I was—”

            “Five months, Mr. Stark. Five months… I-I thought you’d forgotten about me.” _I thought I was going to die in there. I thought they were going to kill me._

            “I never forgot about you, Peter. Not for a second,” says Tony passionately.

            “They… they showed me this surveillance footage. Of you, of May… of everyone—just going on about their lives. Without me.”

            “We never forgot you, kid. We would’ve moved heaven and hell to find you, and we did.”

            “Kiddo… what did they do to you in there?” Peter hates himself for the tears he’s unable to stop. He can’t stop crying, no matter how hard he tries to fight it. He closes his eyes against the tears that are brimming, and he’s back in his cell. Ropes and cords bite into his skin, keeping him tied to the chair. He can’t move suddenly an inch, and his screams are muffled by the strip of duct tape over his mouth. He can’t see anything through the hood over his head, and they’ve put some headphones on his ears. Loud heavy metal music blares through the speakers, and the volume is so high that it hurts. He feels as though his eardrums might rupture; they’re already painfully ringing, as though he’s just been in an explosion. It’s such a relief when they remove the hood and the headphones…

            “Pete, Peter, are you still with me?” Tony asks gently. “You’re alright, everything’s going to be alright.”

            “I can’t stand it in here,” he blurts. “I need to get out of here.”

            “Easy, easy! May and I have been speaking with the doctors, and they say you need to stay for at least a few more days.”

            “A few more days? Mr. Stark—” The hospital reminds him of the lab. The bright lights, the beeping of the machines, and the sterilized smell of the room send jolts of fear through him whenever he wakes. Whenever a doctor comes into the room to see him. The sight of a needle sends chills down his spine now. “Mr. Stark, please. I can’t keep staying here. I can’t stand it. Make them release me.” He hates how desperate and panicky his voice sounds to his own ears. _Keep it up, and maybe he’ll grow so sick of your whining that he’ll hit you._ “Please, I need to get out of here.” The heart monitor spikes as his pulse skyrockets, and he can feel the oxygen leaving his lungs.

            “Shh, shh, shh. You’ll be out of here soon,” Tony assures him. “You just need to regain your strength. We already have a few blood donors lined up for you. The doctors say you should be out of here by the end of the week.”        

“The end of the week?” Then realization hits. Of course, they wouldn’t be able to explain his speedy recovery because of his healing abilities. He remembers how his captors took sheer delight in his healing, taking a crowbar to his legs. They would wait until they healed before doing it all over again. Even now, his bones ache.

“Yes, kiddo, you should be out of here by Friday night,” Tony says. “You should get some sleep.”

“Don’t leave me.”

“Not a chance, Peter. Not a chance.”

Peter is out before his head even hits the pillow.

* * *

 

He wakes in the middle of the night, his throat hoarse from screaming. The sheets are soaked through with cold sweat, and May jerks awake, rushing from the chair to his side. Peter doesn’t even remember his dream, but he remembers the fear. The fear, and the pain. The darkness has reared its ugly head, and he can’t suppress it. May holds him in her arms, rocking him back and forth as he sobs and hyperventilates.

“Shhh, shhh, you’re alright, Peter. You’re alright, it was just a nightmare. It was just a nightmare,” she whispers. The darkness is awake, its eyes wide open, and Peter is at war with himself. May’s touch—no, not just hers, it’s the mere thought of having another person touch him—sends fear through his system the way a drug is injected through a needle, and yet, another part of him yearns for her loving touch. His entire system is haywire, and his emotions are a turbulent storm that he cannot seek shelter from. 

“You’re okay, you’re okay.” Peter hides his face in her shoulder as he cries, unable to stop the sobs from ripping themselves from his chest. “You’re okay, baby. You’re okay. You’re safe now—nobody is going to hurt you again. I won’t let them, Peter. I won’t let them.”

“It was so real. So real.” He doesn’t remember anything of his dream, thank god, but his mind is still back in that cold, dark cell. He shakes in May’s arms—whether it is from the sobs racking his body or from the fear from the nightmare, he doesn’t know. It may very well be both.

* * *

 

The following morning, the doctors and nurses are finally able to hook up blood bags to the IVs. Peter clamps down on his instinctive reaction to flee or fight; rationally, he knows that they are here to help him—but he feels as though he is back in their lab. May has stayed with him throughout the night, sleeping at his bedside to try to keep the nightmares away. They are both worn down with exhaustion; he alternately woke throughout the night, reliving every horror through his nightmares, and she would hold him as he cried himself back to sleep. He hates how he can’t keep his nightmares at bay; no matter where he is, he is somehow reminded of his torment.

“How are you feeling, Peter?” May asks.

 _Numb. In agony._ He feels everything and nothing at the same time. “Better,” he says instead. He groans, and winces as a stab of pain goes through his ribs. “What… what time is it?” Looking around the room, he sees that Tony is gone. “Where’s Mr. Stark? Where is everyone?”

            “It’s almost noon. The police want to ask you a few questions about what happened to you,” she tells him. Peter tenses, and she reaches for his hand. The darkness awakens, and he withdraws his hand from her. “Tony’s just getting some coffee—and Ned will be here soon.”

            “Why? What’s the point in more questioning?” he demands. “May, it’s over. It’s done. I just want them to leave it alone.” _I just want to get out of this place._

            “The authorities want to make sure they have every detail.”

            “Every detail?” Peter scoffs darkly, shaking his head. “I think they got that during the exam last night.” He remembers feeling the examiner’s doubtful eyes on him, picking apart his every word and disbelieving them all. “May, I can’t go through that again. I can’t relive what they did to me! I can’t keep reliving it. What’s their excuse this time? _Standard protocol_?”

            “You won’t be alone, Peter,” she promises. “I’m here. Tony’s here, and so is Ned. We’re not going to let you go through any of this alone.” Peter senses Tony’s presence before he sees him. Tony approaches him and slowly reaches for his hand, letting him know his intentions.

            “Hey, kiddo,” he says quietly. He sets his coffee down on the bedside table.

            “The police want to question me,” Peter says bitterly. “I can’t keep doing this, Mr. Stark. I can’t, okay?” He doesn’t flinch away when Tony holds his hand.

            “I know, Pete. I know—and you shouldn’t have to.”

            “The police should be here in any minute,” May tells him. “Do you want us with you, or do you want to do this alone?” Peter opens his mouth to respond when Ned enters the room.

            “Hey, dude,” says Ned, offering him a weak smile. Peter manages to return the smile even as his eyes sting with unshed tears. Ned plops himself on the bed by his side.

            “Hey, Ned. I didn’t think you’d be here so early.”

            “I was able to convince my mom to let me leave school early.” Ned sighs. “Peter, there’s something you should know.”

            “What is it?” His chest tightens, and it’s become harder for him to breathe.

            “It’s about Flash. Peter, they’ve only become worse since you vanished and since the news broke that you’re alive.” Ned hesitates.

            “Tell me. How bad is it? How bad have things gotten?”

            “I overheard them saying something about ‘making your life a living hell,’ Peter. It’s like… it’s like they wished you were dead.” Ned’s voice drops to a whisper, and he hangs his head, casting his eyes down at his hands.

            “It seems that we can finally agree on something,” Peter scoffs.

            “Peter, no—” Tony interjects.

            “It’s true, alright?” he snaps. “I’d rather be dead, and that’s how I feel.” Tears slip down his cheeks. “You guys don’t get it. None of you do. I’m grateful you’re all here—but you don’t know what it feels like. You don’t know what I’m feeling.”

            “Peter…,” May begins.

            “I’m sorry, May, but that’s how I feel.” The shame burns through him. _You were raped, and soon just about the whole school will know._

            “May, Ned, can I have a moment alone with Peter?” asks Tony.

            “Mr. Stark, you really don’t have to—” Peter protests, but his tone brooks no arguments. His heart begins to race in his chest. Tony sits down by his side and he can’t help but recoil, backing away from him as far as the bed will allow him.

            “Easy, easy. I’m not going to hurt you. Peter, you say that nobody understands what you’re going through—but you’re wrong. I’ve been where you are.”

            “What do you mean?”

            Tony closes his eyes as though what he’s about to say next will cause him physical pain. “Peter… before I became Iron Man, I was kidnapped and tortured by a group of terrorists in Afghanistan. They called themselves the Ten Rings. They wanted to use my own technology for their own personal gain.”

            “The Ten Rings?” Peter pauses, and freezes. He’s hoped that he’d never hear that damned name again.

            “Kid, what is it?” The nausea sets in, and his instinct to fight or flight kicks into overdrive. It takes all his self-control to remain in place. He needs to tell Tony about all of this “Peter, what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

            “Excuse me, Mr. Stark? Mr. Parker?” A police officer stands in the doorframe. Several other officers are with him. “Mr. Parker, we’d like to ask you some questions about the men who took you. Is that alright?”

            _Do I have a choice?_

“It’s standard protocol, Mr. Parker,” says the chief officer, and it is only then that Peter realizes he’s voiced his thought aloud. “We won’t take much of your time; it should take less than half an hour.”

            _Is everything about standard protocol?_ Peter sags back into the bed in defeat.

            “Do you have to do this now?” Tony demands. “He’s been through enough.”

            “It won’t take too long, Mr. Stark. We need everything documented for Mr. Parker’s case.”

            “Everything?”

            “Everything.”

            “Peter, do you want me to stay here with you during the questioning?” Tony asks, sensing his discomfort. He nods mutely. “I don’t want May or Ned to hear any of this.” _It’s bad enough that May had to hear every detail of how those men raped you. You don’t need to put her through that again. And what would Ned think? You’re already fucking pathetic enough. Imagine what he’d think if he knew._

“Come on in.” Tony isn’t pleased about this, but he remains by Peter’s side, sitting beside him and holding his hand.

            “Mr. Parker, what can you tell me about the people who took you?”

            “They… they were all men,” Peter begins shakily, “and they weren’t your regular run-of-the-mill gang. I sometimes could listen to them talking when they thought I was out, and they kept mentioning Mr. Stark and how… and how they wanted to get back at him for slaughtering the main compound of the Ten Rings?” None of it makes sense, even now. “I think they were waiting for him… but he didn’t find me until just recently.”

            “Your medical file suggests you were with them for five months?”

            “I was.”

            “And also, your file mentions you were gangraped?” Peter and Tony both tense, and Peter must fight back the tears of shame that burn in his eyes. “Can you tell us more about that?”

            “I already went over that during the exam.”

            “Mr. Parker, we need you to tell us everything.”

            “ _Look at the file_!” Peter shouts. “It’s all there. They got off on hurting me! They enjoyed hearing me scream and cry and beg them to stop, okay? It was some sick game for them. I lost track of how many times they violated me, but—”

            “Did you climax?”

            “ _What the fuck kind of a question is that_?” Tony snaps.

            “It’s as we said, we need every little detail.” Peter no longer hears Tony and the officers arguing about their line of questioning. He remembers feeling their hands on him, wrapped around him. Stroking him, telling him that he would be their good little boy if he behaved. His body betraying him, giving way and succumbing to their ministrations. He grabs a basin and proceeds to heave into the bowl as he sobs bitterly.

            “Mr. Parker, did you climax?” The question is shouted at him, hurled in his direction.

            “ _Yes!”_ The answer tears itself out of his throat as a scream and a sob.

            “Get the hell out of here!” Tony barks. “I think you’ve had your fun, now get the hell out before I fucking throw you out!” He puts the basin on the floor and moves to console Peter, but he only cries harder.

            Through tear-blinded eyes, Peter sees Ned through the window. His friend’s eyes are wide with shock and horror before he takes off running in the other direction. _No! No! Ned, no!_ he wants to scream. Tony pulls him into his arms and Peter is unable to stop himself from sobbing into his shoulder.


	3. Chapter 3

“Shhh, shhh, it’s over. It’s over,” Tony murmurs, stroking his curls as he rocks him back and forth. “It’s over, kiddo.” Peter doesn’t remember crying this hard since the first night they—he can’t bring himself to finish the thought, and his sobs only come harder, wracking his entire body. Tony murmurs words of comfort to him as he holds him, placing his chin atop of his head.

               “Oh my god… what happened?” May demands.

               “The cops wanted to question him about the people who did this to him,” Tony tells her, “and they just… they toyed with him instead of doing their fucking jobs. It’s like they were going out of their way to humiliate him.”

               “ _I’ll fucking kill them_!” she yells.

               “No, no. May, I took care of it. I took care of it. I kicked the assholes out. Who the hell does that to a kid?”

               _Ned knows. Ned knows what they did to me, and he’ll never look at me the same way again. What guy can’t fight off his attackers? He sees you as what you are now: sad, broken, and pathetic._ Peter tries to calm himself, to stop crying, but he can’t. He dimly registers Tony pressing a kiss into his hair as he rocks him. The pain and the humiliation cut through him like daggers. He can’t even bring himself to blame Ned; he, too, is ashamed of himself for letting those men rape him in the first place. He is ashamed of himself for being unable to defend himself.

               “You’re alright, it’s alright,” May assures him softly. She puts a hand on his shoulder, but he recoils.

               “Don’t. Please… don’t.”

               “Peter, what happened? What did they say?” He turns his face to the side and takes several sobbing breaths before he can muster the strength to speak.

               “They… they kept on asking me if I… if I came when I was raped,” he whispers. “They wouldn’t stop until they got what they wanted from me. _They. Just. Wouldn’t. Stop_.” Tony murmurs quiet and loving nothings to him, still stroking his curls as he rubs small circles into his back with his other hand.

               “Those sick bastards.”

               Peter wants to ask where Ned has gone, but the words are stuck in his throat. Tears are pouring down his cheeks, dripping down his chin. _Do I even want to know?_ He again hides his face in Tony’s shoulder; he’s not sure how much time passes until his sobs subside. He pulls himself out of Tony’s arms and wipes his tears with the back of his hand.

               “I just consulted with the nurses and the doctors,” May tells him. “They say that your recovery is progressing at an unusually fast rate.” _Your injuries heal at an amazing rate for a little freak. I’d love to see what else you can heal from. It’s so fascinating,_ he remembers the scientists telling him just before they cut into him with scalpels _._ “You’ll be released tomorrow. I guess none of them were expecting your injuries to heal so quickly.”

               Peter lets out the breath he doesn’t he is holding. _Thank god, I can get out of here._ “Where’s Ned?” He forces himself to ask the question. “I… I saw him when those cops were asking me about what happened, and he—he just… he just left.” _He heard me tell them that I came when they raped me; of course, he left._

“He needed some air,” May answers.

               “Is that what he told you?”

               “Peter…”

               He regrets the words immediately. “Just forget it. Forget it, May. _Please_.” May falls silent, but Tony breaks the tense silence. He reaches out towards Peter, slowing when he flinches, and places a hand on his shoulder.

               “Kiddo, look at me. Look at me, Peter. We’re all here for you. Nobody is leaving you; nobody’s going anywhere. I love you, May loves, you and so does Ned.” Peter looks up at Tony, his throat closing. He’s about to respond when there’s a knock on the doorframe.

               “Peter?” Ned asks hesitantly. 

               “Hey.” Ned’s eyes are red and his face streaked with tears. “Peter…”

               “We’ll give you two a moment,” May says. She and Tony leave the room, and Peter makes eye contact with his friend.

               “Peter, I’m sorry,” Ned chokes. “I’m sorry I ran.”

               “I don’t blame you for running,” he whispers, a single tear running down his cheek. “You heard everything, didn’t you? About what they did to me?” Peter bites down on his lower lip to keep from sobbing. “Ned, I thought you’d abandoned me. I thought you’d left me.”

               “You’re my best friend. Your guy in the chair, remember? I’m not going anywhere.” He sits down on the bed. “Peter… I am so sorry for what they did to you. I-I had no idea just how bad it was.”

               “Ned, I was kidnapped. I was kidnapped, tortured, beaten, and… raped. The things they did to me…”

               “Where were you? Why… why did you run?” Peter knows the answer, but he needs to hear it from his friend.

               “When I heard you tell the cops that they made you… I realized just how bad it was for you. I couldn’t believe what they’d done to you. I ran to the men’s room and threw up. I’m not going anywhere.” Fresh tears make their way down Ned’s face and Peter hides his face in his hands, unable to keep himself from breaking down once again. He doesn’t fight Ned when he’s pulled into a tight embrace. Ned’s shoulders shake with silent sobs, and Peter hugs his friend back, no longer able to keep his composure. The darkness resurges again at his friend’s touch, threatening to overwhelm him.

               “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Ned chokes. He repeats the words over and over, like a mantra, through his tears.

               _I’m sorry, too._

* * *

 

 

               Peter and May are given the discharge papers the following morning. The nurses and doctors are kind and compassionate, speaking softly to Peter as they explain what their next steps should be, but he barely hears them.

               _I can finally go home. I can finally get out of here._ May gives him the papers after signing, and he signs his names in the allocated spaces. He is utterly relieved when he sheds his hospital scrubs for a sweat-shirt and jeans that May brought him from home. The sweatshirt covers his bruised torso, and the horizontal scars on his arms from all those times he was cut into. His ribs still ache every time he moves.

               The ride home is quiet. Peter stares out the window, watching the sights of Queens go by. He’s glad that May doesn’t try to fill the silence. _You’re going home. You’re finally going home._ Neither of them says a word as she pulls into the driveway and shuts off the engine. Peter heads inside and is overwhelmed. It’s been so long that everything feels strange yet familiar at the same time. The kitchen smells like spaghetti sauce and fresh basil. It smells like home. He is bathed in warmth and comfort, and the feeling is almost foreign. May closes the door behind her and walks into the kitchen, stirring the pot of noodles.

               “Welcome back,” she says softly.

               “It… it’s good to be home.” He’s almost forgotten what it feels like to be safe. To be loved. He smiles, and he rapidly blinks back tears. _I am so tired of crying._ He feels that’s all he’s done ever since Tony rescued him.

               “Peter, I’ve been thinking—and I think you should go back to school tomorrow,” May begins. “I think it’ll be good for you to get your mind off things and be around your friends.” She pauses, seeing his horrified expression. “Don’t let Flash and his friends get to you. Peter, you’re better than them. You’re a better person than they will ever hope to be. I hope you know that.”

               “I do.” May goes over to him, and he involuntarily flinches, taking a few steps backwards. She slows and gently presses a kiss into his curls. “I’m glad you’re home, Peter.”

               “Me too.”

               They eat dinner in silence, and afterwards, Peter goes up to his room. He locks the door behind him, and his emotions boil over before he can stop them. He presses his back to the door and slumps down on the ground, tears running down his cheeks faster than he can stop them. _You’re safe now. They can’t hurt you anymore._

* * *

 

               “I can’t believe we nabbed the little freak!” someone exclaims gleefully. Peter groans. _Where am I?_ Ropes and cords bite into his skin, and he can’t budge. “I wasn’t expecting it to be this fucking easy. Ooh, ooh, it’s awake.”

He forces his eyes open, and he moans, but it comes out muffled through the strip of duct tape and sock they’ve jammed into his mouth. The lights are painfully bright, and he looks this way and that, trying to gauge his surroundings. He sees one of the men in a white lab coat and goggles adjusting one of his many needles. Scalpels are on the table next to him, their edges serrated and glinting under the lights.

               Panic sets in before he can stop it and Peter frantically strains against his restraints, his screams for help muffled by the gag. One of the scientists backhands him across the face and grabs him by the fin, forcing him to look up.

               “You’ll stay fucking quiet if you know what’s good for you, you little shit,” he snarls. He looks over his shoulder towards his comrades. “What do you want to do with it? Personally, I want to make it bleed.”

               _It? I’m not an it!_

               “I like the way you think.”

               “Peter? Peter, wake up! Peter, wake up!” Someone is shaking him by the shoulders and he jolts upright. His body is sheened in cold sweat and he can’t breathe. His face is wet and his throat is hoarse. May is by his sitting by his side, her face filled with concern.

               “You were having another nightmare,” she says, answering his unspoken question. He nods, unable to speak from the lump in his throat. “You’re okay, Peter. You’re safe.” Slowly, she reaches her arms out to embrace him but he shakes his head.

               “No. Don’t. Please,” he pleads. “Will you stay with me tonight?” He hates himself for even having to ask, but his senses are going haywire as though he is still back there, as though he is still being tortured and abused by those men.

               “Of course.”

* * *

 

               Everyone’s eyes are on him the moment Peter sets foot on school grounds. He hears them gossiping and speculating in hushed whispers. Some are pointing at him, and others snapping photos on their phones.

               “ _What the hell happened to him?”_

_“Who the fuck disappears for five months and just reappears in the hospital? Honestly, what the actual fuck?”_

_“Don’t believe a word of it. He’s a fucking intern with Stark Industries; he’s probably using his privilege to get ahead.”_ More snickers and laughs behind covered mouths. Peter is acutely aware of Ned at his side, and he tries to slow his breathing and hammering heart.

 _I knew this would happen. Who would miss Penis Parker?_ He startles when Flash gets right in his face, a twisted and gleeful smile on his face. Flash smacks him upside the head.

               “Welcome back, Penis!” he yells. “How was your little trip?”

               “Fuck off, asshole,” Ned snaps.

               Peter’s hands are clenched into fists, his fingernails digging into his palms. He feels the blood seeping through his fingers, just as he feels the stabbing pain. “Leave us alone, please,” he grumbles under his breath.

               “Come on, dude, let’s go,” says Ned.

               “Penis Parker! How fucking rich is that!” Flash booms, roaring into hysterical laughter. His friends join in to the chorus of sadistic laughter. “Tell us all of the details, you little prick. How’s it been bagging special privileges with Tony fucking Stark? Did he pay for your little trip?”

               _Why would anyone believe you when you say that you were taken against your will and abused?_ a voice in Peter’s head snarls. _Not even the authorities believed you’d been raped. And why would they?_

               “Get out of my way, Flash,” snaps Peter.

               “Or what? You’ll have Tony Stark come down to the school and teach us all a lesson? Cut the crap, Parker, and just admit it. You think you’re better than the rest of us.”

               Peter shoves his way past Flash and his gang, but someone grabs him by the back of his backpack and throws him to the ground, sending him sprawling. The wind is knocked out of him, and Flash and his buddies burst into uproarious laughter.

               “Dude, don’t get too carried away,” one of his friends tells him. “Not yet, anyways. Come on, we gotta get to biology.” He snickers. “Maybe we’ll learn how to get some pussy around this place.” They usher off towards the school, and Ned pulls Peter back up to his feet.

               “What was that about?” Peter asks. “Flash hates biology class.”

               “Peter…”

               “Why are you looking at me like that?”

               “We’re starting our sex-ed classes this week.”

* * *

 

               The teacher stands at the front of the classroom, projecting a PowerPoint presentation on the overhead, as she talks. Peter is acutely aware of Flash’s eyes on him, and he can hear him trying to suppress his laughter. Projected on the screen are the teacher’s lecture notes on the importance of consent.

               “What about this is funny to you, Mr. Thompson?” she asks pointedly, raising an eyebrow. “What’s funny about sexual consent? Please, do enlighten the rest of the class.” She throws her hands up in frustration. “Mr. Thompson, put your phone away.”

               “I’m sorry, I’m sorry—but this meme is _hilarious!”_ Flash can barely get the words out through his hysterical laughter.

               “Dude, what the hell are you even looking at?” one of his friends asks. “Give me that, I want to see!”

               “Can you just shut the hell up for once in your life?” Peter snaps, swiveling his head around so he’s looking at Flash. “Seriously, shut the hell up.”

               Flash tilts his head at him the way a dog does at its owner. “Or… what, Penis? You can’t do shit.”

               “Language, Mr. Thompson!”

               “You’re looking awfully pale there, Peter. Are you sure you’re okay?” he jeers.

               “Shut up.”

               “Oh, does the topic of sex make you queasy? That’s funny, because I thought you wanted to tap Liz before she left!”

               “Shut. The. Hell. Up.”

               “Thompson! Parker! Enough. I’m not going to tolerate this sort of pettiness; you can stop now, or you can keep fighting each other in detention. Now that that’s settled, I’m going to show you all a short video on what you can do if you see one of your peers in a potentially dangerous situation.” The lights dim, and a YouTube video plays on the screen.

               “It’s my hope that you understand the importance of sexual consent—especially in light of social movements such as #MeToo,” the teacher says. The room falls silent as the video plays. About ten minutes have passed when the video shows a scene of a girl at a party, drinking and laughing and dancing with a group of boys. Peter is unable to stop the wave of nausea that sweeps over him.

               _No, no, no. Please no._ The world moves in slow motion as the girl passes out with her drink in her hand; the boys in the video burst into laughter, and the scene is stopped as the narrator explains how it is never the fault of the victim—but Peter doesn’t hear anything over his blood pounding in his ears. He rises from his seat, but instead, the floor gives way beneath him and the world goes black.

               The last thing he hears is Flash’s laughter.


	4. Chapter 4

“Peter? Peter, are you okay?”

            “Mr. Parker, are you alright?”

            Peter opens his eyes. Ned is kneeling by his side, and the teacher hovers nearby. “Oh… god, my head hurts.”

            “You fainted in the middle of the video,” Ned explains.

            “I… did?” He remembers seeing the clip of the drunken girl at the mock-up of a party.

            “Do you want to get the nurse?” the teacher interjects. “You may have a concussion.” Peter shakes his head.

            “No, thank you. No nurse. I’m fine.” Ned pulls him to his feet.

            “What happened?” she asks. “Mr. Parker, you’ve never gotten squeamish during class—not even when we’ve dissected frogs.” She pauses and opens her mouth as though she’s about to say something, but she merely shakes her head. Peter and Ned make their way out of the classroom, and almost immediately, Peter is beset by another wave of nausea.

            He runs to the men’s room, bursting into the nearest stall and proceeds to expel his stomach’s contents into the toilet. Ned is pounding on the stall door.

            “Peter? Peter, are you okay in there?” he asks. “Peter?”

            “I’m fine!” he rasps between heaves. “I’m fine—just give me a second.” Whether it’s from his vomiting spell or the shock from the video, his eyes burn, and he feels something wet on his face. His heart won’t stop pounding in his chest, and his breathing is ragged.

            “Peter, you’re scaring me.”

            “I’m fine.” His voice breaks against his bidding. “Ned, I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about me.”

            “Dude, come on. Don’t be like this,” Ned pleads. The walls of the stall are suddenly closing in on Peter, and he’s trapped. He’s trapped, and he can’t breathe. He collapses from the toilet onto the floor, thankful for the door that stands between himself and Ned.

 _I don’t want you to see me like this._ Peter looks down at his hands, which are now shaking violently. “Ned, please…” He doesn’t know what he’s pleading for. To be left alone? To not be left alone? He isn’t aware that he’s hyperventilating until he hears Ned again on the other side of the door.

            “Peter. Peter, listen to me. You’re okay. You’re at school, and you’re with me. You and me against the world, remember? Spider-Man and his guy-in-the-chair.”

            “Spider-Man doesn’t get… attacked by a group of older men and held down.” The words taste bitter in his mouth. _Just another reminder of just how worthless you’ve become. Look at yourself. You’re falling apart in front of the whole school._ “He doesn’t get assaulted.”

            “Peter…”

            “Ned. Please. Go.” His tone must have been too harsh, because Ned falls silent on the other side. “Please.”

            “Text me if you need anything.” Ned’s voice is barely above a whisper. Peter hears him shuffle off the floor and the door slams shut behind him on his way out. It is only then that he crumbles, sobbing and hyperventilating on the floor.

            _Breathe, Peter. Breathe. Just like Mr. Stark taught you. In. Out. In. Out._ Peter slowly inhales and exhales through his ragged sobs. He can’t _stop_ shaking, and he knows he can’t go back to class like this. _Everyone saw you faint. Just how much more pathetic can you get?_ Before he realizes what he’s doing, he pulls out his phone and dials Tony.

            “Peter?” Tony picks up after the first ring. “Peter, what is it? What’s wrong?”

            “I can’t _breathe,_ Mr. Stark. I feel…I feel like—” Peter can barely get the words out because he is sobbing so hard.

            “Shhh, shhh. Focus on my voice. Focus on my voice and breathe. Deep breaths. In…and out. In… and out. It’s alright, kiddo. It’s alright. You’re safe. That’s it… that’s it. Breathe. Breathe, Peter. In and out. In and out. You’re going to be okay. You’re going to be okay.”

            Peter takes a shaky breath. “Mr. Stark, I just—I thought I could do it. I thought I could come back and pretend that the past five months haven’t happened. I did, Mr. Stark, I really did—how could I have been so stupid? The whole school is talking about me and what a mess I am.”

            “Peter, you’ve been through one hell of an ordeal,” says Tony softly. “I would be worried if you weren’t a mess. I know it’s hard right now, I know.”

            “I can’t do this _. I can’t_!”

            “You can. You don’t have to do this alone. You have me. You have May. You have Ned. Kid, we’re here for you. We’re going to help you get through this, okay?” The bell rings, and Peter startles. The sound pierces his ears, causing them to ring, and he grimaces in pain.

            “Is it always going to be like this, Mr. Stark?”

            “It gets better—but it gets worse before it gets better, Peter. I’ve been where you are, kiddo. I’ve been there, and you’re going to make it. You’re going to make it because I’m going to help you. I’m going to help you get through this. I promise you.” Peter nods through his tears, choking on another sob. His breathing has slowed, and he’s no longer hyperventilating. Tears are silently running down his cheeks.

            “Do you want me to pick you up after school?” asks Tony. “I’ll call May and let her know.”

            “Thank you,” Peter breathes.

            “Anytime, Pete. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

            “Okay.”

            “I love you, kiddo. Take care of yourself.” The line goes dead and Peter picks himself up off the floor. He wipes his eyes in one last attempt to remove all signs that he’s just been crying, and he unlocks the stall. His phone vibrates in his pocket, and it’s a text from Ned: _Are u ok?_

 _I’m ok,_ Peter texts back. _Don’t wait up for me after school. Mr. Stark is picking me up._

_Ok. Text me if u need anything. I mean it. C u at lunch?_

_I will. Thx._ Peter puts his phone back in his pocket after checking the time. It’s lunch period. His back hurts from carrying so many of his textbooks, so he heads to his locker. He quickly texts Ned: _Putting some stuff away. See you at lunch._

 _K cool,_ Ned texts back.

Peter freezes in his steps when he makes it to his locker. In what he presumes is Sharpie ink, the exterior of his locker is decorated in crudely drawn penises. Sticking out from inside of the locker is a note. A pit forms in his stomach as he pulls the note free, unfolding it: _You’re a fucking liar, Penis Parker. We know you paid Tony Stark for ‘favors’—and it’s time you paid for your dishonesty. I’m just getting started, fucker. –Flash_

Peter lets the piece of paper fall to the floor, and he unlocks his locker, putting everything inside it and slamming the door shut as the first surge of anger sweeps over him. It bangs loudly, echoing throughout the hall.

“ _Fuck!”_ he shouts. “ _Fuck!”_ He’s known Flash for years; his bullying and constant harassment is nothing new. Flash has bullied him his entire life and he’s almost gotten used to it—but this is different.

 _Flash sees you for what you are. A liar and an attention seeker. Even if he did believe you even for one second, you know he’s right. You’re weak and pathetic. Fucking worthless._ His eyes burn, and he feels like he can’t get enough oxygen in his lungs. His phone vibrates in his pocket, his stupid yodeling ringtone loudly echoing in the empty hallway.

He braces himself against his locker, trying desperately to calm himself down. _You’ve done nothing but cry ever since you got back. Pull yourself together, Parker. Remember, just breathe like Mr. Stark taught you. Just. Breathe._

“Peter? Peter, I’ve been looking for you.” Ned’s voice breaks through his thoughts. “I was getting worried and—holy shit…” His words trail off as he sees the crude drawings on the locker. “Peter, dude…”

“It’s Flash. He’s had it out for me ever since we were kids,” says Peter. “God _dammit_ , Ned. I don’t need this shit right now. I just don’t.” He chuckles bitterly. “I don’t expect anyone else to believe me, but—”

“Peter, _I believe you_. I believe you. Maybe we can—”

“Ned, _he’s only going to get worse_!” he snaps. “His dad is on the school board, remember? The school probably won’t do shit.”

“It can’t hurt to at least try, Peter. He can’t keep doing this.”

“He’s just getting started.” Peter gives him the note. “Read it. He’s not going to stop.” _Well, at least it’s senior year. After graduation, you’ll never have to see him again. Just a few more months, and you’ll be out of here._ “He saw me faint during biology. He has all the ammunition he needs. Ned, please don’t look at me like that. I can handle Flash. I’ve been doing it for years, remember?”

“Don’t you think you should at least… talk to someone about this?”

“I don’t want to worry May or Tony. I’ll be fine. It’s just going to be a rough rest of the year. It was just… it was just a shock, seeing that.”

_Who’re you trying to convince? Yourself or him?_

* * *

 

Tony is waiting for him outside in his Audi. Peter is acutely aware of people swiveling their heads, gawking at the famous billionaire who has casually pulled up in front of their school, but he pays them no mind as he climbs into the passenger seat.

“Hey, squirt,” says Tony as he fires up the engine. “Are you doing okay? After you called, I started to worry.”

“I’m fine, Mr. Stark. Really, I’m fine. I just—had a few shocks today.” The school becomes smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror, and Peter breathes a quiet sigh of relief. _You blacked out during sex ed, and now Flash is out for your blood._

“Pete, you know you can talk to me about anything, right?” Tony looks over at him as they approach a red light.

“I know. I know. Mr. Stark, how—how did you get through it?”

“I had Pepper, and Happy and Rhodey… Peter, I had my friends, and I let them help me. Believe me when I say that I was stubborn. I was determined to deal with everything on my own, but Pepper and Rhodey were the ones who got me through it. I leaned on them, and to be honest, kid, from time to time I still do have nightmares about what happened to me. They’re not as frequent… or as bad, but they’re still there.”

Peter gives a shake of his head and looks out the window, watching the city go by them. _You really should tell him what’s been going on,_ his subconscious tells him. _Look at yourself. You look like shit, and anyone can tell just by taking one look at you that something’s wrong._

“Peter, what is it? Tell me,” Tony implores gently. _Something happened at school. Talk to me. Please._

“I… fainted during sex ed,” he says bitterly, “in front of the entire class. We were being shown this stupid video on the importance of consent… and I don’t know what happened. I blacked out.” _Please, stop asking questions. I’m fine._ “I blacked out and I guess I…panicked afterwards?”

“If you need anything—anything at all, Peter, you know you can call me.”

“I know, Mr. Stark, and thank you—but I’m okay. Really. I’m okay.” _Just change the subject. He can’t know about Flash._ “I’m okay.” Tony brakes at the red light and shifts towards Peter.

“Kiddo, something else is wrong,” he says gently, “and it’s gnawing at you from the inside out. Talk to me. Please. What else happened at school?”

“I really don’t want to talk about it. Can we please just drop it?” Peter snaps. Tony immediately backs off.

“Okay, okay. That’s okay.” Peter can’t help the pang of guilt he feels upon seeing Tony flinch at his harsh tone, and he continues looking out the window, his eyes burning with unshed tears.

 _Now you’re lashing out at everyone. Good going, asshole,_ his subconscious snarls.

The rest of the car ride passes in silence.


End file.
